


The Torment of Tyson Brady

by mukur0



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Possession, Trans Sam Winchester, drug use warning, surreality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 07:20:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21095585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mukur0/pseuds/mukur0
Summary: In 2001, Brady started pre-med at Stanford University and fell in love with both freedom and his proud, enigmatic roommate, Sam Winchester. In 2002 he was possessed by demons solely to manipulate Sam’s life. In 2010, Sam killed him without a single attempt at exorcism.





	The Torment of Tyson Brady

_ You’ve got to know it wasn’t me. I...I don’t think it was me  _ why did you _ Sometimes it’s hard to tell anymore. It’s hard to tell what’s _ – _ what’s me and  _ you _ or  _ (why did you) _ what’s them and them and me and them and I didn’t mean to do it if I did it. I didn’t do it Sam, I didn’t. Why are you looking at me like that? I’m not them. They’re me.  _ why did you

_ Why did you kill me? _

In August 2001, Tyson Brady got a taste of freedom.

He drove a sedan behind his parents’ SUV all the way from Draper, Utah, to Stanford, California, windows open most of the way, smelling hot desert air and all the textbooks he couldn’t wait to buy. He was in pre-med, eighteen years old, aching to finish loading his dorm room and see his parents off. And it was lucky they left quickly.

In the evening he walked in to find the other bed taken. That wasn’t a surprise. The surprise was the gorgeous lady in black lace and piercings loading her side of the cabinet. Her name was Hecate and she was a pretty damn cool woman, you know, if bunking with a girl was comfortable. She left her breast forms out and there was makeup powder on the desk, but okay. He was in pre-med, if he couldn’t deal with that then what good was he?

She was just as leery, which was entirely fair; he didn’t know what he’d do in her position except get bitchy. The school had refused to put her with her preferred (and obvious) dorm and went by her birth certificate, so here they were. But apparently goth chicks had contacts, and within a week and a half she was lowkey switching with a guy who’d gotten stuck in the girls’ dorms for the same reason. 

And when Sam Winchester walked in, measly duffel bag in one arm and books in the other, Tyson Brady was as good as dead.

Looking back, he would have been so lucky.

_ They call it the window. Sometimes I can see what they’re doing out of it, sometimes I can feel, sometimes it’s me them me them don’t know who’s in control doing things I wouldn’t do but me them me them  _ _   
_ we

It’s we its we i-

we

(The car stuh-stuh-stuttered to a stop, stuh-stuh-stuttered to a stop, radio lurching to a high note and dying with everything he was ever going to be.)

_ fizz crackle static crying dying dead _

At first sight of that boy, Brady got to his feet and wondered where the hell the campus had been hiding his soulmate.

At second sight, he still didn’t regret the thought.

“Hey. Uh, Sam, right?”

That was probably the worst possible way to start off, but hey, they were just two dudes. And he was so fucking gay and this guy was –

“Uh, yeah. Hey. Um...Tyson, right?” 

Sam was –

“Call me Brady.”  _ Please. _

_ Perfect. _

burns down his throat, hellfire, hellfire, burns hotter than any liquor he’s got hellfire on his lips

what are you doing brady what are you doing brady wh wh what are you 

what are you brady

It only took three months for them to go to bed together. The fact that they shared a bedroom helped a lot, really, and probably the fact that Sam had agreed to go with him to a kegger. He wasn’t a big partier, really, but hey, freshman year – he was going to a few bashes. 

They left early, blissed out on cheap beer and smoke from other people’s bongs. Sam was mindblowing and he was gorgeous and he was the smartest person Brady had ever met, studying like the world was going to end even though he memorised things in one pass or didn’t need to read the book at all. He was tall as hell with shoulders that belonged on a quarterback, even if they hadn’t yet filled out. It was stupid, but Brady was so gone on him he didn’t think he’d ever look at someone else and feel quite so right again.

That first night, Sam didn’t let him touch much of anything. Instead Sam gave him a blowjob that made him consider his vows and rode him like an angel. A really, really sexy angel, even if he didn’t want Brady to kiss him or touch his chest or return the oral. And Brady really, really liked giving oral.

_ gonna make you feel all better? _ __   
_ feel all feel all better _ _   
_ __ big boy?

they’re (we’re) a glutton, starved, desperate,   
pleasure in the fingertips   
honey in the palms   
can’t breathe through the syrup   
can’t remember air 

It turned into a pretty regular thing. Sam gradually let him take more liberties, like being on top, or using his hands between Sam’s legs (and wasn’t that a dream, touching Sam down there, knowing he offered that little bit of trust and Brady wasn’t going to fuck it up). He didn’t take off his binder, and that was fine. He liked to have his hair pulled, which was more than fine. And he was so flexible Brady wasn’t entirely sure if he were made of bone or rubber.

_ I miss missed miss we miss I  _ _   
_ _ where did you go  _

Niveus Pharma _ ceuticals _

ArmaArmaArma

Yes, sir. 

According to plan, sir.

_ geddon _

He’d had a girlfriend in high school. She was the same year from other classes, a pretty little thing with long Catholic high school hair and her skirt folded over too many times to make it shorter like half the other girls. They skipped a couple of classes together, smoked some cigarettes (he never learned to like them), whispered dirty things into each other’s ears during Wednesday mass. She was the first girl he touched under her clothes, Emily, with padded C-cups and a little too much mascara but hey, no one in high school knew how to apply it quite right.

Neither of them were particularly set on each other. She had a promise ring that was absolutely a lie, but she didn’t lie to him. Neither ever professed love, just a good time under the bleachers or sneaking out at night, and they were both extremely creative. At least they (usually) used condoms.

right into the vein that’s the stuff

haha the pre-med that’s the joke load us up doc we’re here to get our shots

too many faces, smiling faces, grinning faces, teeth teeth teeth not supposed to be here not supposed to be here not supposed to

it hits. breathe. we’re good now. 

everything is good now.

_ “Brady, what are you doing? What happened?” _ _   
_ _ “I’unno, it’s fun, Sam. I feel the best I’ve ever felt!” _

It was Thanksgiving 2002. He went out for a pack of root beer to go with the football game, despite neither of them being much for sports. His dad and uncle were big fans and he and Sam seemed to enjoy other people’s enthusiasm as much as anything else. 

The car stuttered to a stop at the side of the road, radio clicking, rattling, exhaust huffing one last dead sigh. He banged on the dash, yelled some curses, reached for the button to pop the hood.

Everything went black.

i’m sca   
can’t breathe   
Sam i   
can’t think   
_ Sam i’m scared _

n̷̢͘o̴͕̊ ̶̲̏o̸̧͠n̷̦͗e̸͎͠ ̷̢̔ȉ̶̞s̵͎̽ ̵̖͑c̴̭̓ȯ̶͓m̴̲̃i̷̹̽n̴̼͆g̸̤̈́ ̸̧̐ṱ̸͋o̶̳̓ ̶̡̃s̶̫̒â̴̫v̵̘̔e̸̳͋ ̷̖̇y̷̛̤ö̷̥́u̴͔͝

At a rager a drunk punk tried to step to Sam, hissing something Brady couldn’t make out. He thought Sam was going to avoid the fight like he usually did, always shying away from confrontation, but to his shock Sam swung his fist wide and practically knocked the fuck across the room. It really shouldn’t have been as hot as it was. He was so fucking strong. 

(no don’t look at me like that)

ever yo ne wh o let  yo u fall   
ev e ryon e w ho le t  yo u h u rt   
eve ry one  w ho  le t y o u

Sometimes between college classes he had enough time to study. While Sam studied because he didn’t seem to realise just how smart he was, Brady studied because he needed to. Sure, he was smart, and he was aware of that – he was in Stanford University, for fuck’s sake – but he wasn’t a natural to booksmarts that way. He had to reread his notes, to make highlights in his books and go back over them with a comb. Details had to be weaseled out of his understanding and forced to gel.

Sam, despite being pre-law, had a lot of the same starting classes that he did, and it was a blessing because after the same lecture Sam could sit and explain it all back to him as if he understood it as well as the teacher. He didn’t memorise, he  _ learned. _ He grasped concepts like a mother fucker, and sometimes Brady was lucky and could glean things off of him he’d never have gotten so quickly on his own.

But sometimes he needed quiet, and that was when he stuffed his things in a backpack and climbed.

He never got caught, maybe because everyone was so used to freshmen doing weird things that they just didn’t care. He studied thirty feet up in tree branches, or on the roof of the library, or on top of a fucking food van. He’d only done that once, had zoned out into a book and lurched back online when the van started to drive off too fast for him to climb down till the next light. One time he read his book and put underlines in it while he was sitting on top of a basketball hoop. 

No matter how hard he tried to get Sam to come up to forbidden places with him, he just wasn’t interested. Too bad. But he did like the privacy.

_ what did i do what did i do do do what did i do  _ __   
_ she screamed when she saw me with a knife she knew knew knew _ _   
_ __ they jeered and grinned and maybe i did too too too

NEVER WANTED TO HURT YOU 

Sam had this particular way of moving. He talked low and his voice teetered on cracking; he hid behind his hair and covered himself in big clothes; he had bands on his wrists that he wouldn’t take off where Brady could see them; somewhere between jackrabbit and coyote, he stalked around with one eye over his shoulder and kept his hands in his pockets, where there was a little imprint of a pocket knife. On both sides.

Brady walked in one day when he had his pants down around his knees and a syringe in his hand. Sam hurried to hide everything while he hissed about knocking, but Brady just raised his hands in surrender and walked in. It wasn’t like he hadn’t known Sam was transitioning. At the moment, it was...kind of obvious, and, well, Hecate…

“Hey,” he said soothingly, “hey, man, let me help. Pre-med, remember?”

Neither of them pointed out it was two months into the first year and he had yet to touch a needle. He at least could find better alcohol wipes than these old things that looked like they’d been pilfered from an abandoned hospital. (He didn’t realise yet that they very well may have been.)

_ “Hey, Sam. This is Jess.” _ _   
_ _ They still trusted him then. _

g̷o̴n̷n̵a̸ ̶m̵a̷k̵e̷ ̵y̵o̶u̴ ̵f̵e̵e̸l̸ ̴a̷l̶l̶ fe̵e̸l̸ ̴a̷l̶l̶ ̵b̶e̷t̶t̴e̴r̸?̷

When he was halfway through junior year of high school he sat down with his girlfriend and told her he thought he liked guys. Too, that was, he was very clear – he thought she was incredibly attractive, he just also liked dudes. If the teachers caught on he’d be in trouble, and he was afraid of the school at large catching on, but he needed to tell  _ someone. _

She freaked out. She yelled at him, threw a book at him, and accused him of cheating. How else would he be so sure? she argued, smacking him across the face and stomping off to their next class from their spot beneath the bleachers. By the end of the day he was being greeted by friends with not so friendly words, several girls wouldn’t so much as acknowledge him, and even the guys that didn’t care about cheaters weren’t comfortable with a  _ faggot. _ He was taken to the chapel to pray over his spiritual wellbeing. Pretty much to be expected.

It wasn’t really as damaging as it could’ve been. He knew how to be aloof, didn’t put too much of himself in anyone else. Exasperated and mostly frustrated, he withdrew from sports and finished the next year and a half as a loner. And if some guys refused even to hand him test sheets, well, that was their own damn stupidity, right?

Just wait till he was one of their doctors.

scared Sam i’m scared Sam Sam i’m we’re Sam please i’m   
i’m scared Sam   
_ we’re scared Sam _

There was a boy from his Catholic middle school that liked to hang out on the roof of the chapel with him during free hours. Sometimes they slipped out and made it to the arcade a mile away, where managers didn’t turn in kids playing hooky as long as they spent money on tokens. It was the beginning of eighth grade when they climbed up and took their respective places on the shingles, ready to complain about teachers and the new semester, bags behind the bushes on the ground below. The sun beat down hard on the both of them, but his friend already looked tanned. He was taller and his smile broader and his hair was bleached from the summer and all the words dried in Brady’s throat. It didn’t take long to figure out that his life was not going to go as he’d been told it would, and he wasn’t sure yet if that was a good thing. 

Demons were insular, self-centered things, which made for constant strife just inside of Brady’s body   
(their body?)   
(our body)   
makes for constant strife inside of our body   
(mine)   
(i touched it first)   
(i was in charge of this task)   
(you haven’t been in charge since you almost got the meatsuit arrested)   
strife   
(isn’t it mine?)   
(shut the human up)

He didn’t know that minds had fingernails, but he scraped his, over and over, fractured them against the Window, howled until he went hoarse and the glass was covered and he was left in the pitch black back corner of his brain.

his phone got broken soon after he (it) stopped showing up for classes. he (it) didn’t send his parents his (its) new number. someone told him (it) cops had showed up at his dorm. his parents never heard from him. 

Sam didn’t like Halloween, wouldn’t go to their freshman Halloween party if his life depended on it. After days of begging Brady gave up and got his hands on alcohol and more Resident Evil and they enjoyed it in their dorm room with popcorn and chocolate peanut butter cups. Well, Brady did. Sam didn’t really eat junk food. Or much at all. Brady managed to subtly ply him to get at least a meal a day, and at the end of the year when Sam had too much of his meal plan left over Brady paid him for it so he’d at least have some cash.

He did like Thanksgiving, but he’d only had it once. Brady had been in shock to hear it, then sad (and carefully hiding it, because Sam always shut down when he suspected pity), and refused to let Sam stay on campus for the holidays. First he hauled him home for Thanksgiving break, then winter, and then spring break – his parents were a little weird at first, having never interacted with someone mid-transition before, but knew they were on thin ice with their son and did their best. Quickly Sam schmoozed himself in and became the favourite, maybe even over Brady, as expected.

It was a tightrope to be generous with Sam without being generous enough that he backed away. He tried to explain to Brady that it came with growing up poor, that sometimes gifts were more than gifts and he had his pride, but Brady had given up on understanding and accepted that he’d have to be careful about price tags. Meanwhile sometimes in the grocery store he’d complain about food prices rising by a couple cents, only to snap his mouth shut when Sam gave him the Look.

So okay. Maybe they came from different worlds. 

_ blood like sugar, they lap at blood like sugar, she’s bleeding out from the chest he’s high as a kite, they say it’s good it’s good it’s good he can’t think he’s numb and oversensitive and covered in blood gonna have to burn these clothes burn her body burn everything love that fire _

_ was supposed to graduate today spent the last eight hours with a girl, she’s dead dead dead that’s one more for the quota  _

_ didn’t get to taste the last one. smelled like cookies. burned like a thanksgiving turkey _

_ wanna wanna wanna go home _

In 1992, a group of people came to the front door with pamphlets and books he’d never seen. He stood in the doorway in confusion while they talked about prophets he’d never heard of until his father came to the door behind him and ushered him back into the house. He was supposed to go to his room but instead lingered in the hallway, listening to his dad bicker with the head of the group, and winced while he tore the pamphlet Brady had been given and handed it back. Why didn’t he like people who were preaching about God? he wondered. He never really got an answer. 

can’t you stop them

can’t you can’t you ca ca ca

can’t you save me

you didn’t even try 

Sam had never played Mario Kart. In fact, he’d never played any video game but those big arcade machines that cost 50 cents for a couple of minutes. No Mortal Kombat, no Pokemon, no Sonic. Just Pac-Man and some lame off brand Donkey Kong.

That had to be fixed.

The Playstation was brand new, and obviously he had a Nintendo 64 and bought a small television to go with it. Sam acted like it was a huge expenditure, but Brady gave him a quizzical smile and said he didn’t need the allowance for anything else this week, which unfortunately seemed to drive Sam away for the rest of the trip. The games, though, they opened him right back up. He really got into Resident Evil. 

_ don’tlookatmelikethatsamit’snotmethey’reruiningme _ __   
_ they’reruiningme _ _   
_ _ they’re _ ruining __ me

WHAT ARE THEY TALKING ABOUT    
WHAT ARE YOU DOING    
WHAT HAVE YOU DONE   
(WHAT IS THE BOY KING?)

_ Sam i’m scared _

h̶͚͒e̴̖̓'̷͝ͅs̴̼͝ ̵͍̄n̷͉͑ȯ̷͍t̴̢̃ ̴̤̽h̵̯͝e̶͎͘r̸̘̿ě̵̺ ̸̬t̸̞͋o̴͖͝ ̶͖̓s̶̲͗a̸̩̔v̴͇̿ȩ̸͐ ̸̖̇y̷̻̍o̷͖͑u̷͓   
(maybe he’ll save me)   
h̶͕̉é̵̬'̶͕̈́s̶̟̾ ̶͇̃h̷̟͝ë̶͜ŗ̴̔e̶̼̚ ̶͇̽ţ̴̈́o̷̗͋ ̴͔̎k̸̙̉ȋ̴̪l̴̛͍l̴̲͐ ̸͉̂u̷̢͂s̷̙̕   
(maybe it’s the same thing)

At 6 years old, Brady broke his arm playing soccer. He was determined to be the best goalie the coach had ever seen, and when the ball came hurtling towards the far corner of the net he dove to the ground in a futile attempt to stop it with his hands. The ball hit the net and his vision went grey, first at the edges and then in the middle. He always did fall hard.

Cocaine looks like whiskey and he has a taste for it now. It almost burns like the fire down below.

They’re not quite one. Closer. Ever closer. Me us we. Seven in one. Hell times six. 

He wears a suit like battle armour and smiles at things not quite as wicked as he. 

_ know it’s about you, sam _ _   
_ _ i know it’s about you _

is she so perfect?   
am i so forgettable?   
i love you   
sam i love sam sam i lo   
all i did was love you

(WHAT ARE YOU BECOMING?)

Some nights Sam disappeared from the dorm and came back a little bruised. Brady didn’t pry, and even though he caught a glimpse of a sock full of cash he didn’t ask why Sam was squirreling away so much money. It was Stanford, even with a full ride there were expenses. 

So he wasn’t particularly surprised when Sam sat down with him in February and said he wanted to schedule a surgery over the summer. He couldn’t do it alone, he said – the recovery required someone to help him, and he didn’t want to be laid up for six weeks without someone there. Besides, a motel would be too unsanitary.

He’d picked Sam up around the waist and spun him and kissed him and laughed because he was so delighted to be so trusted, and Sam kissed him back and laughed with him and rode on his back at his insistence because boys were boys and sometimes they did that. Sam could carry him, too, which never ceased to leave him with a very impolite boner.

yes, lord pestilence, thank you   
I’ll do you proud   
humankind is going down in its own filth   
and it’s going to be so much fun

they’re so happy he’s so happy   
this is everything they were ever meant to be

High school had mandated a certain number of hours of volunteer work per year, so Brady was no stranger to soup kitchens and thrift stores. Sam, on the other hand, appeared very familiar with them – but not as a volunteer. He couldn’t cook worth his life, but he had a lot of fun passing out food and organising donations and walking dogs waiting to be adopted. Brady didn’t know his heart could beat quite like that.

_ why do they want you sam why do  _ gonna make you  _ they want you so bad they take me _ _   
_ _ why do they want the girl so bad sam why do they want you to know  _ gonna make you feel  _ her so bad that they _

g̶̱͐ỏ̴̮̬n̷̹͆͊͜ṋ̴͑ă̶̢̽ ̶̘̔̏m̶͚̤̔a̵̘̍k̷̟̔ȅ̴̮ ̵̛̜y̴̼͒o̸̲̯͌̒u̵͉̒ ̶̦̦͛f̸͉̊̃͜ḙ̴̅̆ė̸̺l̴̘̫͑ ̵̳̦͛ả̷̘͙͝ḻ̸̪̐̒l̵̮̯͠ ̸̨̫̉̅b̸͓̘̍e̴̝̙̅͝ṱ̷̆͜t̵͈͛̂e̵̠͑r̵̠̉?̸̠̼͗̍

WHYAREYOULOOKINGATMELIKETHAT WHYAREYOUSOANGRYIDIDN’TMEANTODOITSAM IMISSEDYOUSOBADLYIMISSEDMISSEDWEMISSEDDIDN’TMEAN

MAYBE I MEANT TO DO IT SAM

ALL I DID WAS LOVE YOU SAM

Sam had a 3.9 GPA at the end of freshman year, and Brady had a 3.8 that he attributed entirely to study sessions with his roommate. Through the year Sam had bulked up considerably, muscles going from lean to intimidating, shoulders filling out into a whole new man. He hadn’t thought he’d grow anymore, but goddamn, suddenly he was even taller than Brady and up a shoe size to boot. It was all Brady could do to keep his hands off of him in public.

The surgery went well. They found a surgeon just an hour away from his house in Utah and he talked his parents into letting Sam crash there for the summer. It wasn’t exactly an imposition, especially when Brady was so determined to do all the nursing himself. On top of that, they could go back early and take a couple summer crash courses before the second year started in earnest.

It was hard. Sam didn’t like being an invalid, and Brady didn’t like being snapped at. It took a couple weeks to find a balance, but they did, and by God but Sam was the hottest thing he’d ever seen when he stood up straight and looked confident with his flat chest and big, excited grin. He was hardly 20 and it was too early to make that kind of decision, but he was really, really wondering if he was going to spend the rest of his life with this pretty son of a bitch who didn’t even own a hairbrush.

whaT’s a hunTer sam   
whY do theSe thiNgs waNt yoU   
wHy do yOu sCare tHem sO bAdly saM   
can yoU sAve mE sAM   
I dOn’T liKe whAt theY’re doINg sAm   
whY caN’t yoU teLl somEthIng iS wrOng saM   
sAm

(they want you so bad sam they took me, this is all for you, why can’t you look into my eyes when they say these things and know something is wrong, don’t look so heartbroken when theywewho say such awful things sam i haven’t betrayed you  _ why won’t you look at me why is it easier to go to her just like the demons wanted  _ how could you believe them _ ) _

i̷̤̬̓t̵̡̙͌'̷̧̌̄s̵͇͠ ̵̦̱̉̉e̴͉̒̔ȧ̵̻̩s̵̺̼i̴̳͛ͅé̶͎̏r̴̛̰ ̵̺̅w̶͉̚i̴̞̋͂t̵̮̙̽ḥ̸̱̂̔o̷̼͛̽ȕ̴̘̱t̵̟̍̆ ̸̡̻͆̕y̵̙̝͘ò̶͚̃u̷̦̿̊

One time Sam’s boot wore out so badly that he duck taped the heel back onto the shoe and acted like nothing was wrong. Brady spent the entire week whining about how badly his car needed to be washed and how much he hated doing it, all of it bald-faced lies, and when Saturday came he acted out a moment of epiphany and said, “Sam! Sam, if you wash my car for me I’ll buy you new shoes.”

He got one of Sam’s patented Looks, but he also got a newly shiny car and the privilege of buying him nice new work boots, size 14. 

who are   
((l̷̝͉͂e̷̻̰̓̇g̸̩̅i̷͔̔o̸̻̳͒̒n̷̼̽̐̌))   
why are   
((t̵̮̟̹̅̆̃͗̉̿̃̍̐̈́̔͘͠t̶̺̟͑͛h̶͉͇̓̌ê̸̪̽̍ ̵͓̒̿f̴̳̓a̵͇͗̽ṫ̶̝͇̗̍ẖ̷̈e̴͕͒ř̷̫̭̣̊))   
who is   
((t̵̢͇́́ͅh̵̻̪̟͉̔̇̒͝e̸̥̪̅̋̅͛̅ ̴̡͝ẻ̵̗̭͆̒ͅn̶̨̗̣̮̘̿̐͌̍̇d̶̬͚̯̤͗͠))

_ this is all about sam winchester _

His parents didn’t make Sam attend mass while he stayed with them, but sometimes he wanted to. He always looked so guilty when he took communion and so hopeful during prayer. Brady never asked.

perfectsuitperfecthair   
youwerebornforpower   
wewerebornforpower   
theyaresoterrifiedofus   
(good)

Sometimes when they had tests to study for they took fifteen minute breaks. They set an alarm, climbed into each other’s laps, and kissed with coffee breath and cinnamon gum until they could return with new eyes to their books. It was foolproof – unless they got so hot they couldn’t concentrate anymore. It was about 50/50. 

pESTILENCE, sIR.   
i fIGURED oUT tHE fORMULA.   
i aM sO eXCITED tO sTART pRODUCTION.

If Sam was the death of him, he wouldn’t mind. 

_ sam im scared _

(The car stuttered to a stop on the side of the road, radio dying.)

half-drunk on booze and youth, brady asked about the scars. “werewolf,” sam laughed. his voice cracked. 

YOU CAN SAVE ME SAM YOU CAN YOU CAN YOU CAN   
SAVE ME

_ why do you smell so good, sam _ __   
_ why do we want to sink our teeth into you _ __   
_ and drink you down like  _ __   
_ that _ __   
_ beer _ __   
_ we _ __   
_ used _ __   
_ to _ _   
_ __ like 

they have a $4,000 suit for every day of the month. they are going to end the world.   
(who are they, again?)   
tyson brady.   
they are tyson brady.

that time they were bored and they let him out and let him  _ know _ it and his mouth tasted of old blood and he wasn’t sure if he was really in control or they were fooling him again and he thought  _ i have to warn sam i hAvE tO waRn SAm  _ and they let him reach the phone and wrenched his fingers out from beneath his mind again just in time to cancel the call and let him scream and scream and scream

Ṭ̶̬͔̼͂̕͝H̵̦͇͕̥̥̍͐̉̇̈́͋͘E̴̛̠̻͛̿̚ ̴̪͎̱̿͛̔̏͊̉͘B̷͇̜͖̰̈̓̒̎̏Ḝ̷̻̝̟̮̞̔ͅŞ̵̖̠̥͕͗̀̃̚T̸̬̽̏̒ ̵̩̹̩̩̓͒͘͠Ö̶̖͔́̌͐F̷͚̙̪̺̮̪͛ ̵̖͈͎̞̘̏̒̽͝Ṣ̴͍͈͆Ö̵̧̟̱̟͔̮́̈́͑ͅM̴̜̘̯̖̩͍̓E̸̼͙̱̞͑O̶̔ͅN̴̼̦̠̎E̸̳̩̭͂̈͋̈̊̓ ̷̓̽́̈͌̇͝ͅB̴̡̬̱̣͓̫̉̽̇̉̃Ḙ̶̿́́̾̋T̵̜̠̳̳̰͂̿T̶̛̞͑͋̃̓̔ͅȨ̸͖̱̻̼́̽̊R̶̨̡̛͓̠͉̬̪̃

his skin’s just the surface of teeming water too deep, too dark, the sharks frenzy feed on every memory they drag into the depths he is acrid and bitter and eaten bite by bite

_ doesn’t matter whose God you ask,  _ _   
_ _ He isn’t here to care _

when he went home the school priest had called his parents. they wanted to send him to a camp for people who thought they might be gay. he wondered if they had it easier without him.

smells like cookies, she looks surprised. “haven’t seen you in so long,” she says like it matters, like she cares, because she doesn’t know. she’ll never know. she tastes like perfume when he kisses her forehead and then she’s screaming

getthemoutofme   
youcangetthemoutofmenow   
_ whyareyouholdingthatknifesam _

one time he brought sam to a pet store on adoption day and watched him fall in love with three different puppies. he hadn’t accounted for how painful it would be to leave. they held each dog and bought them treats and played with them, reluctantly making way for families that might actually take them home, and they held each other as they walked out of the store and talked about raising a dog together as soon as they graduated. he pumped his fist and yelled victory the second sam was out of earshot, then he bought them sam’s favourite pizza to celebrate the implicit promise of the future. 

_ can i come home now sam? _

(sam is so handsome. he’s grown so much. he looks so tired. brady wants nothing more than to kiss him. but he is so angry. he is so angry and he hasn’t even considered saving him.)

There were two beds in the dorm room but they were in opposite corners and nailed to the floor so that they couldn’t be shoved together mid-year. A twin bed was too small for one of them, let alone two, but in the cooler nights of fall and winter (or what passed for it in California) they sometimes managed to curl up together on one bunk, wound around each other like they could keep the morning from breaching their window and they’d be there forever.

maybe it’s better if he’s dead

MISSED you sam missed you SAM missed you SO MUCH SAM

when brady called sam “baby” he’d blush like a virgin and go gooey, sometimes even in public. once he got sam to stutter while he ordered his coffee. he dedicated it to his memory like the precious thing it was.

The Window was open   
he watched himself drive home   
he felt the smile when he sat beside sam   
and wrapped an arm around his shoulders   
and ate thanksgiving dinner of 2002   
with the scent of blood    
in his nose

_ We’re the ones you should be afraid of. _   
I’m afraid sam i’m afraid i’m afraid i’m afraid   
i’m afraid

last time i saw you angry a woman at the grocery store called us faggots and i kissed you next to the smelly fish display and i felt the heat rush out of you under the buzzing fluorescents and every time i smell fish i think of your lips

i want to kiss it away again but these words keep coming out and i don’t think i can, sam, i don’t think i can

don’t know what’s coming out of my mouth sam   
am i the one talking?   
are you in hell sam?   
are you in hell with me?

they did this to me because of you sam   
this is all about you sam   
don’t look at me like that

WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY

_ sam please i just wanna come home two beds small room you used to love me what happened to when you loved me sam i thought you loved _ __   
__   
Her.   
  
Killedherhurther _ wanted _ tomakeyoufeelit   
  
__ Come and get me 

_ baby _

_ isn’t _

_ it _

_ gonna make you feel all better? _

  
**It’s a start.**

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [emmatheslayer](https://emmatheslayer.livejournal.com/) for the banner and [Ladyboo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladyboo/pseuds/Ladyboo) for a wonderful beta!


End file.
